Double Shot
Harry’s heart skipped a beat as Draco tumbled backward through the shop door, laughing loudly at Pansy, who glared in through the front window with both middle fingers extended and her tongue poking out. The fresh spring air swirled in as the door swung shut again, stirring up the sweet-acidic scent of roasting coffee beans and fresh-baked scones.
Time slowed as Draco turned toward Harry, one hand coming up to push long fingers through his shaggy, blonde hair. The gesture shifted the thin, green vest he wore, the one he’d cut the armholes out of until every last bony rib was on display. Harry felt his face heat at the sight of the scrolling Latin script inked onto his side: mutationem cordis, ‘change of heart’. Harry thought he might need a change of heart, literally, because his seemed to have stopped working all of a sudden.
Harry watched, mesmerized, as Draco’s long, translucent eyelashes kissed his cheeks as he blinked and his bright grin fell. When his gaze finally landed on Harry, his smile grew again, but into something soft and private. Just for him.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you swallowed a toad.” Draco cocked one dark eyebrow and smirked at Harry, which made him feel a little lightheaded.
“Hah—yeah, I mean, no,” Harry wheezed, “that’d be…weird. Why would you even say that? Weird.” He swallowed uncomfortably and prayed that the floor would open up and consume him whole.
Draco looked at him for a beat, head tilting slightly to the side and his brow furrowing. “Whatever, Potter, as long as you aren’t about to be sick all over the pastry counter. I hear that’s bad for business.”
Harry silently cursed himself—stupid, stupid, stupid—and watched Draco come around behind the counter to pull on his sweatshirt first, then his apron. The golden afternoon sunlight streaming in through the shop’s wide windows set his hair alight and glinted off of the numerous silver rings and studs punctuating his ears. Heat pooled in Harry’s chest and the butterflies that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his stomach fluttered as he thought to himself, for probably the millionth time, Draco is so hot.
He thought the same thing another hundred times over the course of the day as he watched Draco deftly pull espresso shots and pour steamed milk into the wide cups he cradled gently in his palm, a towel tossed casually over one shoulder. He burned with silent jealousy every time Draco flirted with a customer, his melodic laugh filling the small shop. It didn’t matter that it always got them a bigger tip, Harry hated it.
When Harry finally flicked his wand toward the front door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed’, he felt tired and wrung out. His muscles ached like he’d run a marathon, and his heart beat weakly in his chest. It turned out harboring a secret, devastating crush was a lot of work.
“That guy was back again yesterday,” Draco said off-handedly as he wiped down the espresso machine.
“Which guy?” Harry asked, knowing full well which guy Draco meant.
“The handsome one, iced double-shot cinnamon soy latte…he always leaves a fiver in the tip jar? You’ve helped him a few times.”
“O-oh,” Harry mumbled, turning away to tidy the flavor syrup bottles. “Well, that order’s pretty basic, so… Could be anyone.”
“He finally plucked up the courage to give me his number,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry’s grousing.
The open carton of oat milk in Harry’s hands slipped and sloshed to the counter, splattering the front of his bright purple jacket with specks of white. “Are you going to text him?”
“I don’t know.” Draco shrugged and popped open the register to begin cashing out. “He isn’t really my type, but he’s persistent, which has to count for something.”
“Hmm,” Harry hummed, not trusting his voice to remain steady if he tried to actually say something.
“Besides,” Draco shrugged again, his voice growing small and quiet, “it’s nice to be pursued, you know? Takes a bit of the anxiety and guess work out of it, knowing for sure that someone fancies you that much. Yeah…I think I’ll ask if he wants to grab a drink at Sid’s later.”
“I don’t think you should!” Harry blurted, twisting the ties of his apron nervously in his hands.
“What? Why not? Weren’t you just telling me the other day that I should put myself out there and start dating?”
“No! Well, yes I said that, but I didn’t mean him! He’s… And you’re…”
“What?! Think he’s too pretty for me or something? Think I’m not good enough for someone like him, all professional and put together?”
“No, Draco, that’s not what I meant at all. You said it yourself, he’s just not your type!”
“Who, then, in your estimation, should I be going on dates with, Potter?”
“I— I…”
Draco sighed, untying his apron and pulling it over his head. “Whatever. Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today but I’m going to—“
“Me.” Harry interrupted, his voice cracking and his face flushing furiously.
“What?”
“You should go on dates w-with me.”
“Harry, what are you—mmph“
Draco cut off with a soft sound as Harry’s hand clasped the back of his neck, drawing him down until their lips met.
The kiss was firm, at first, but Harry gentled his touch when Draco didn’t pull away immediately. If this was his one chance to kiss Draco Malfoy, he was going to make it good.
He threaded his fingers up into the hair at the nape of Draco’s neck and settled his other hand on Draco’s hip, pulling him closer. Draco made another small sound as he stepped fully into Harry’s space, their chests pressing together.
Harry sucked in a breath when he felt Draco’s hand slide up his bicep and his fingers wrap covetously around the side of his throat.
“Don’t text cinnamon latte guy,” Harry panted against Draco’s lips. He felt Draco smile.
“Okay.”
“Text me instead.”
“Okay,” Draco whispered, leaning down to kiss Harry again.